Page 8 of Hunted Omega: Part Two

“Easier?” I cut him off, raising my voice. “You think anything about this could be easy? You’re talking about tearing my life apart over some biological compatibility I never asked for.”

His gaze softens, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know this is overwhelming, but please, at least consider meeting with Pack Clarke before making any final decisions.”

“No,” I snap. “I won’t be manipulated into this. I don’t care how rare or precious you think it is. It’s my life, and I decide what happens in it. I’m not some collectible omega Pokémon for you to trade.”

I don’t wait for his response. I turn and storm out, the receptionist’s startled gaze following me as I shove through the doors and into the street. The noise of the city crashes around me, but all I can hear is the pounding of my heart. It’s like a drum solo in my chest.

So much for facing this head-on. It was more like face-planting into a nightmare. I feel like I just stepped into the twilight zone.

As I walk, my mind races. I need to talk to someone to make sense of this mess. Cayenne and Ginger will know what to do, but even as I reach for my phone, a part of me hesitates.

How much do I tell them?

No matter where I go, it seems like I can’t outrun this. The worst part? I’m not sure if I’m running from Pack Clarkeor straight back to them. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, fear mixing with something else—something I’m not ready to name. Probably indigestion, or you know, inconvenient attraction to four impossibly hot alphas. Same difference, right?

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. It’s like trying to find zen in the middle of a tornado, but hey, I’m nothing if not an optimist. One step at a time. Call Cayenne and Ginger, figure out the legal implications, and then… then I’ll deal with Pack Clarke. Somehow. Maybe I’ll just send them a strongly worded email or a glitter bomb. That’ll show them.

As I dial Cayenne’s number, my fingers trembling slightly, I make a decision. I won’t be a passive player in this game. If they want to force this match, then they’ll have to catch me first, and I won’t make it easy for them. I’ll be like a ninja—a really clumsy, panicked ninja, but still.

The phone rings, and I can almost hear Cayenne’s voice in my head. “What fresh hell is this?” Oh, if she only knew.

A chilling realization settles in my gut like I swallowed an ice cube. No matter how fast I run, no matter how well I hide, Pack Clarke and I are on a collision course. I’m terrified that when we crash, I might not want to walk away, but I’ll be damned if I don’t go down fighting. Maybe I should start taking boxing lessons or invest in a really good pair of running shoes.

As the phone continues to ring, I steel myself for the conversation ahead. How do you even begin to explain something like this? “Hey, remember those hot alphas I’ve been avoiding? Well, turns out the universe has a sick sense of humor…”

Whatever happens next, one thing’s for sure—my life just got a whole lot more complicated. Here I thought being an omega in hiding was hard enough. Clearly, the universe looked at my life and said, “Hold my beer.”

Cayenne picks up on the third ring, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. “Aria? What’s up? You sound like you just saw a ghost. Or, you know, a really hot alpha.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Cayenne, you’re not going to believe this. Remember how we joked about my life being a bad romance novel? Well, turns out it’s more like a sci-fi thriller with a side of government conspiracy…”

As I start to explain, I can’t help but think that if my life were a book, it would definitely need a warning label.Caution: Contains unexpected plot twists, government shenanigans, and four irresistible alphas. Read at your own risk.

Well, universe, you wanted to make my life interesting? Mission freaking accomplished.

3

MALACHI

I standat the head of the conference table, the evening sun slicing through the blinds and casting long shadows across the tense faces of my pack.

The scent of agitation hangs heavily in the air, a potent cocktail of alpha pheromones tinged with unease and unspoken words. Zane, Quinn, and Dash sit before me, their eyes fixed on the folder clutched in my hands. The silence is thick, charged with anticipation and something close to dread.

Four alphas, one omega. Who said leadership was easy?More like herding cats… rabid, lovestruck cats.

My leather chair creaks as I shift, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room. I breathe deeply, tasting the mix of familiar scents, all undercut with a sharp note of anxiety.

“I received the official report from Scent Synergy,” I say, my voice steady even as my thoughts churn beneath the surface. “It confirms what we all suspected. We’re matched with Aria.”

The room erupts in a clamor of overlapping voices and scents. Quinn leans forward, his eyes bright with a flicker of hope that feels almost out of place, his scent spiking with excitement and trepidation. “So on a scale of mildlyinconvenient to apocalyptically life-changing, where does this match fall? Asking for a friend, of course.”

Dash pushes back from the table, the legs screeching against the floor as he runs a hand through his hair—a nervous habit he never managed to break. His usually salty aroma turns sour with stress.

It’s Zane’s reaction, though, that pulls me in. A fleeting look of guilt flits across his face before he masks it with practiced indifference, his scent darkening. For a moment, I’m transported back to that night, seeing Aria’s face crumple as Zane’s harsh words cut through her.“You lied to us,”he snarled, his anger palpable. “How can we ever trust you?”The memory of her scent—orange creamsicle turned bitter with fear and hurt—lingers like a ghost.

“What does this mean for us?” Quinn asks, cutting through the noise, his voice tinged with barely contained curiosity. “And for Aria?”

I draw a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “The match is unusually strong. According to Scent Synergy, it’s one of the most compatible they’ve ever seen.”

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